


On a Rainy Monday

by UchiHime



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey has to learn to live with Mike gone and no amount of dirty diapers can fill the hole left in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Rainy Monday

**Author's Note:**

> One thing to now: this story is a collection of scenes of Harvey's life both with and without Mike and they're told in no specific order. 
> 
> So, I seem to have been struck with a bad case of Baby Fever, add that to the fact that there's not nearly enough mpreg stories in this fandom and you get eight incomplete mpreg stories on my computer. Over the course of writing, I managed to combine some of those stories and now there's only three. This story was originally two stories (the working title of one being "an offer he can't refuse" and the working title of the other being "but world enough and time") that ran close enough to each other plotwise that combining happened. I hope you guys like mpreg, because there'll be a lot more from me.
> 
> Story is un-betaed, so all mistakes are my own.

**On a Rainy Monday**

Harvey can't help but smile at the way his husband decided to wake him. Mike's hands are warm and his touches are bold, slipping lower and lower beneath the bed covers, finding and caressing every sensitive place he'd ever discovered on Harvey's body. Harvey's own hands refuse to remain idle, one slips up to grip a handful of Mike's blond hair and the other rubs slow circles on his lover's hips. He hasn't opened his eyes yet. He doesn't need to see to know where to touch to make Mike come completely undone. Mike's body is as familiar to him as his own. He's explored every inch and loved every bit of it.

A loud screaming cry pierces the silence of the morning and Harvey's startled enough that his eyes fly open without him bidding them. For one long moment he can see Mike there, blue eyes staring into his with a sleepy smile on his face as the sunlight dances in blond hair. Harvey breathes out, and the image is gone. Mike is gone. The space on the bed next to him is empty and cold and the sunlight on the pillow says Mike will never sleep there again.

The cry continues and Harvey forces himself up, turns over to see the bassinet on the other side of the room where the sound is coming from. He struggles to his feet and stumbles towards it. The tear-filled eyes that look up at him are the wrong shade of blue and the sight of dark hair does nothing to appease the ache in his heart. Harvey stares down at the screaming baby, wanting just for a second to walk out and leave it there.

_"Harvey,"_ a whispered voice admonishes and he turns, expecting to see Mike standing over his shoulder. But there's no one there. The baby screams on.

…

On a snowy Wednesday in December, Harvey and Mike are walking in the park after buying coffee and hotdogs from a street vendor. Harvey is, for some unknown reason, hyperaware of Mike next to him. They're standing just a slight bit closer together than is professional, but Harvey tells himself that it's only because the weather is so cold and their proximity is an unconscious desire to get warmer. But there's nothing unconscious about the way his eyes trace the lines of Mike's flushed face and follows the curve of his chapped lips.

All around them, people are going about their lives, some weighed down by bags of Christmas gifts, some with their hands wrapped around cups of coffee or hot chocolate, some walking alone, and some wrapped up in the person next to them. The air is strong with the scents of pine and mint and everything around is red and green and festive.

He and Mike keep walking on, feet crunching the snow beneath them. They're out of the park and walking down a sidewalk packed with people and storefronts. All of a sudden, Mike stops walking and grabs Harvey's wrist. Harvey turns to see what's caught his associate's attention and Mike leans forward and brushes his chapped lips against Harvey's. It's a short kiss, a feathery soft meeting of lips and nothing more but it makes Harvey's heart pound and he can tell the flush on Mike's face has nothing to do with the cold anymore.

"Mistletoe," the blond mumbles, pointing to the tiny sprig of leaves and berries hanging from the awning of the storefront Mike had stopped them under. Harvey laughs, then wraps his arms around Mike and pulls him in for a proper kiss. As Mike melts so easily into his embrace, Harvey can't help but wonder why he'd never done this before.

…

There're pamphlets and printouts and a list of phone numbers on his coffee table that Harvey avoided looking at, despite having ordered Donna to gather the information for him and then ignoring all her arguments until she did so. Between 3am feedings and dodging calls from Jessica asking when he was planning to return to work, Harvey had little time to actually look at the information.

Some days, when the Mike shaped hole in his heart felt particularly empty and painful and the baby screams would not stop, he would grab the first page he could get his hand on and sometimes managed to dial more than three digits before hanging up and throwing his phone across the room.

He made sure to always have his back to them whenever his daughter was in his arms, as if she could actually read what they said and know what Harvey felt and judged him for having thoughts of giving her away.

…

Their wedding is a small affair: just the two of them and a judge at the courthouse. Neither of them bothers with changing their last name, already knowing they belong to each other without the need for such a blatant claim.

The only people who know of their nuptials are Donna and Jessica, because Donna knows everything and keeping the knowledge that one of her Junior Partners has wedded one of her Senior Partners from Jessica is a death wish.

People are used to seeing them together anyway thanks to the years Mike spent as Harvey's associate, so no one looks twice at the newly made Junior Partner spending so much time in his former mentor's office or the two of them leaving together and going out for drinks or dinner. It's not like they flaunt their relationship. There's enough working against Mike without them adding the insinuation that he slept his way up the career ladder to the list.

…

It is 4am when Harvey shows up at Donna's house, a baby in his arms, diaper bag hanging off one shoulder, and black circles under his red eyes. His usually gelled and primped hair is in a disarray, as if he'd recently tried to yank handfuls of it out, and he wore desolation like a cloak around him. Donna takes the baby from his arms without a word and just manages to grab the diaper bag before he falls face first onto her couch. He's asleep before she even gets the door locked.

…

Their daughter doesn't have a name for three days, and that's how long it is before Harvey ever holds her. If not for Donna, he would have forgotten she existed altogether, because Mike is gone. What is a baby without Mike at his side? Some terrible idea of a consolation prize after losing the one thing in his life he actually cared about?

…

Two months after Mike made Junior Partner, Harvey goes to his office and drops a manila folder on his desk, before making himself at home in the leather arm chair across from him. Mike gives him a curious look, but says nothing as he picks up the folder and starts reading. It was the contract for a combined merger and expansion that Harvey had agonized over. He'd put more effort into writing that damn thing than he'd put into any of the work he'd done for Jessica and the firm.

Mike reads it three times and they both know that's two times too many, because after just one glance through, Mike could probably recite it backwards, forwards, and in Greek. Finally he puts it down and Harvey can read in the twitching of his lips just how hard it is for him to keep his expression neutral.

"You can't possibly be serious," Mike states.

Harvey shrugs casually. "Do you need a couple of days to think it over before we negotiate the terms?"

Mike just looks at him, an expression of utter disbelief, before he forces himself back to neutral and picks up the file again. "How big of an expansion are we talking about?"

"About two-to-four additions spaced over the course of ten years, but that's up for negotiation."

Mike nods slowly. "What about individual property?"

"In the off-chance that the merger falls apart, both party will exit with what they entered with and any shared property obtained after the fact will be awarded to whichever party is most needing it."

"And how can I be sure this is a simple merger and not a hostile takeover?"

"My client is willing to make certain accommodations to show he's acting in good faith, outlined on page three sub-clause B."

Mike, unnecessarily, turns the file to the appointed page. He reads it through calmly, before his carefully constructed mask cracks. "This has got to be the most unromantic marriage proposal I've ever seen. And somehow, it works. Where do I sign?"

…

He's in the middle of a rebuttal when someone walks into the courtroom. He turns at the sound of the door opening, but doesn't stop speaking until he realizes just who it is striding so quickly up the aisle with a haggard look on her face.

Jessica pays no mind to courtroom policy, walking right up to Harvey and grabbing his sleeve so that he bends over the small swinging door that separates spectators from court officials. He can't recall her exact words, but he knows the moment he hears them, it feels like all the color has washed out of his world and all he can do is stutter something to the judge about a recess or a continuance or something that made no sense at all as he shoves passed Jessica and all but runs out of the courtroom because Mike was hurt and Mike needed him. He doesn't care about the way the rain drenches his suit because the only thing that mattered was Mike.

…

_“Diet Mountain Dew, baby, New York City. Never was there ever a girl so pretty. Do you think we’ll be in love forever? Do you think we’ll be in love?”_

Mike sings in the shower and the music he listens to in private is worse than anything Harvey had ever heard. “What the hell are you listening to?” Harvey asks. He can make out a blurred outline of Mike’s naked body through the frosted glass twisting and dancing to the shitty music and Harvey can’t help but roll his eyes. Mike sings on.

_“You’re no good for me, baby, you’re no good for me. You’re no good for me, but baby I want you, I want you.”_

Harvey picks up the iPod from the edge of the sink and looks at the screen. “Lana Del Rey, Michael? How dare you bring such tripe into my house? This may actually be deal breaker. I can’t date a teenager, Michael.”

Harvey wakes to Lana Del Rey singing about “what makes us girls.” He doesn’t know what woke him. His daughter is completely silent in the way he’s only ever seen her while asleep. Mike’s iPod is somewhere in the bassinet with her, Lana’s smoky voice her favorite lullaby and Harvey’s just glad she’s too young to make sense of the lyrics. It’s still dark outside and Harvey predicts the time is somewhere between “took damn late for this” and “too fucking early.”

He swears he can here Mike laughing.

…

One day, Mike walks into his office and drops a file on the desk in front of Harvey, and that's nothing new because Mike often comes to him for advice since he made Junior Partner. Harvey picks up the file and he reads it twice before he realizes exactly what "company" is planning an expansion and why Mike felt Harvey needed to know about it. He stares at Mike in shock and acts before his better sense can stop him. He rounds the desk and pulls Mike into his arms and kisses him long and slow, right there in the middle of his office. He doesn't care who can see them through the glass door, because Mike just told him that they were going to be a family and it’s everything he’d ever wanted.

…

The baby stares at him from the blanket on the couch he’d laid her on, all big eyes that are no longer blue and long dark lashes dusting against chubby cheeks. She’s sucking contently on her pacifier and looking for all the world like a perfect little angel who hadn’t just soiled her diaper in a big way.

“You think you’re cute, but this is just nasty,” Harvey states as he grabs another baby wipe. “Where do you even keep this much poop? You’re such a little thing.” He’s gotten diaper changes down to an art form by this point, but it still surprises him just how much shit his daughter could produce at such a young age. “And this stink is not at all ladylike. This is a grown man stink, little girl.” It takes four baby wipes just to wipe her down and a fifth one just to be sure she’s actually clean. She squirms and wiggles the whole time.

Harvey tugs the last strap in place before tickling her round belly with the tips of two fingers. She squirms and flails her limbs and Harvey can’t help but smile. Their little girl is so beautiful.

…

"What are you doing here?" Harvey asks when Mike steps into his office on a rainy Monday. He's eight and a half months pregnant and waddles more than walks, but Harvey can't help but think he's beautiful standing there wearing one of Harvey's old Harvard sweaters that isn't nearly big enough to stretch over his round belly where their daughter is growing. He'd been forced to take paternity leave and complained about every second of it, saying he hated being so idle. Neither of them could wait for the baby to be born.

"You left some files at home," Mike states. He doesn't make it as far as Harvey's desk. The files in his hands fall onto the coffee table and Mike lowers himself down onto the couch, immediately putting his feet up and arranging the pillows to take some of the pressure off his back.

"I was going to come by and get those on my way to court," Harvey says.

"Well, I saved you the trip."

"You're due any day now, Mike, you shouldn't be traversing the city like this. What if you'd gone into labor in the back of the cab?"

"Then I would have redirected the driver to the nearest hospital. God, Harvey, I'm pregnant, not invalid. I was going out of my mind just sitting around the house. At least here I can spend my free time being useful."

"I need to leave for court soon. You can't come with me."

"Then I'll stay here and proof briefs or something. I'm a big boy, Harvey. You don't have to worry."

…

The doctor walks out of the operating room, yanking off his paper robe and rubber gloves and he doesn’t even need to speak for Harvey to know that Mike is gone. Donna is next to him saying something, but the words reverberates through his skull like they’re being shouted down a tunnel and he can’t make sense of any of it.

He has a system for this kind of thing, a foolproof method for dealing with mourning and loss without destroying the carefully constructed image he’s built for himself. But, for the life of him, he can’t remember why such a thing even matters. He’d just lost the love of his life, what does his image have to do with the jagged hole in his heart?

Donna is still talking and he still can’t make sense of anything coming out of her mouth. And he doesn’t care. Because Mike is…

Harvey breaks down right there in the hospital hallway.

…

Harvey measures the water and heats it for fifteen seconds, before adding two carefully measured scoops of powdered formula and twisting on the nipple, pressing one finger over the small hole as he shakes the bottle until the powder dissolves and there's a little frothing of foam at the top. The baby cries the whole time.

When Harvey feeds her the bottle, she's silent for all of two seconds, before she's screaming again. He tries the put the nipple back in her mouth, but she won't take it. He doesn't know why she won't take it. She keeps screaming and he just wants to shake her and ask "what is wrong with you?" He lays her carefully in her bassinet and lets the bottle drop to the floor. And he says to her in a broken voice, "I don't know what’s wrong with you. I don't know what to do." He lowers himself to the floor and his cries join his daughter's and he thinks "I can't do this. I can't do this. Mike, I can't do this."

…

Harvey can't say the exact moment he started to "care" but he knows it's Mike's fault. The little blond bastard had dug his way under Harvey's skin and into his heart and was completely unrepentant about it. And Harvey can't bring himself to mind, because he likes caring about Mike.

He likes how the little things he does makes Mike smile so hard his face lights up. He likes being the reason Mike blushes and fumbles over his words. He even likes when Mike presses cold toes against his calves and acts like a teenager being dragged out of bed in the morning. He likes the way Mike just fits so seamlessly, in his arms, in his life. He likes loving Mike.

And maybe it's because of how easily Mike slipped in that his absence had all the subtlety of an atomic bomb. It's a big, gaping hole in his world that Harvey can't fill. And he's tried. Tried filling it with liquor and work and one night stands. Tried filling it with little baby fingers and 3am feedings and hair bows and diaper changes and loving their daughter enough for both of them, but none of it works.

None of it takes away the half glimpsed images of a blue eyed man standing by the window and the phantom voices in the hall and his habit of cooking more food than one person can eat. The coffee cup on the counter next to his remains empty and he can't stop thinking that Mike never even got to see their daughter.  He knows Mike would be disappointed in him and how badly he's handling everything.

Harvey doesn't know the exact moment he started to care, but he wishes with all his heart that he could figure out how to stop.

...

He wakes up with his daughter in the bed next to him. He vaguely recalls lying her there for a late night diaper change and being too tired to move her back to her bassinet. She’s sleeping soundly, her eyes flitting around beneath pale lids while she dreams. Her little lips are pursed and making sucking motions as if the pacifier lying next to her was still between them. Her dark hair is fanned out around her like a dark halo. She’s wearing only a little pink onesie with “Daddy’s Little Angel” written on the front. A think blanket covered her legs and waist. Harvey gently pries open one of her little fists and smiles as her fingers immediately closes back around his.

She’s perfect.

Harvey doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear splashes on his arm. All this time he’d been missing Mike and he’d forgotten that what his husband would want more than anything in the world was Harvey and their daughter’s happiness. He knew if Mike had had the choice, he would have chosen their daughter’s life over his own in a heartbeat.

All this time he’d spent wishing for Mike back and he missed the little piece of Mike that had been there all along.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a tumblr which can be found [ here](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com). I'm primarily a Teen Wolf blog, but if you want to drop some Marvey fic prompts in my inbox, I wouldn't be upset. As of right now, I'm on a semi-hiatus, but I do try to pop in every week or so to see how things are.


End file.
